Lie Or Dare
by chickalicious
Summary: It's time to play truth or dare. Or maybe just dare, because nobody seems to tell the truth anymore--Brooke. Two people will have to make a choice that fate has seem to set for them: lie or dare. The hardest part is figuring out the difference. NH AU
1. How It All Started

**Lie or Dare**

_Two people will have to make a choice that the world has seem to set for them: lie or dare. The hardest part is figuring out the difference._

**Prologue**

Silence... deafening at first because you know it's the stillness before the inevitable; the inevitable is bound to occur. And then everything comes crashing down on you, all at once. Sometimes, when the tide is that strong and the currents keep pushing you further down, you can't help but get caught up in it. Trying to fight it, you just get further tangled into the mass until that moment of clarity; the feeling of calm again. Like a lullaby, its gentle and soothing noise draws you into the tranquility and it's there when you stop resisting the water and let it take you. Where? You have no clue. Do you care? You shouldn't. This moment is meant for embracing life and its faults as well as qualities. The waves glide toward the shore and bring you with it, about to surface for that long awaited breath.

This could easily relate to life; anybody, any situation, anytime, anywhere, for any reason. But for some reason, this hypothetical scenario didn't relate at all to Haley James's life… not in her opinion at least.


	2. Let's Talk About Exes

**Hi, I'm Rebecca. **

**I would just like to be completely honest with every reader now that I have only four chapters of this story written and it's probably going to be incomplete. Hopefully that won't stop you from reading and reviewing though and I hope you enjoy it. You never know though, maybe I'll be inspired to add to this... **

**_R&R and much thanks._**

* * *

**Disclaimer:** _I (sadly) don't own Haley James, Nathan Scott, Lucas Scott, Brooke Davis, or any other OTH character. They (even sadder) belong to Mark Schwann. _

* * *

The -- signifies third-person perspective.

The signifies a flashback.

The name written above a passage signifies their POV.

The italicized signifies text in Haley's book.

* * *

**Chapter One**

'_Once upon a time,' Haley James clacked on her keyboard, muttering the words as she typed them under her breath._

_**Haley**_

I suppose that was one way I could start my story. Sure, it wasn't one of the most captivating introductions but it wasn't bore-worthy either. I'd change the name of the character since it would look conceited if I used my own name as the main narrator but ultimately, the whole thing would be based on my life. If I can't think of another possible beginning, this would have to be it…

Little was I aware that my roommate/best friend/social planner/fellow 2006 UNC graduate had been in the room at the time of the start of my horrible-looking novel.

"Oh no Writer-Girl," she started, rubbing her apple against her pajama pants as she leaned across the island counter. "I will not, and I repeat, NOT, let you start off your first book with a corny, overused, amateur intro such as 'once upon a time'."

I grunted and closed the screen of my laptop, frustrated at work already. "And I won't let you eat that apple without washing it or for that matter, your mouth, after you wake up… late, I might add." I retorted while pulling the Granny Smith that had been in her hand, and close to her mouth, away from her. I headed toward the fridge where I took out a cold water bottle to escape the heated apartment from the searing warmth outside.

"Man, you are quite the mother figure," Brooke complained, pouting as she got up and headed toward the bathroom.

"Oh Brooke," I sighed, shaking my head with a smile threatening to come out. I took my laptop with the open Word document titled 'Untitled' to the couch where I plopped down and tried to type again.

I sighed and flipped over to sit up straight, grabbing the remote from the coffee table in front of me. I turned on the television onto a channel that Brooke had been last watching when an ad came on. I'm usually not one for commercials but I found this one sticking to me, every last detail; the girl grunting as she sprinted to the end, the challenges she faced along the way like the cliff she jumped across. Though it seemed entirely stupid to one who wanted simple entertainment, I found myself analyzing the 90 second experience as a single word flashed across the screen: **dare**.

The programming wasn't entertaining or inspirational and I found myself dozing off in a daze, back to that one word. With a frustrated groan, I turned off the computer and the television, staring at blank screens that had me staring back.

I looked around for inspiration but nothing was interesting or even the slightest bit appealing to me.

_**--**_

Now that thought _could_ be applied to Haley's life as she looked around the nightclub that Brooke had dragged her out to. _It's our first settled night in the apartment, we have to celebrate_, Brooke had said, in addition to the promise that Haley could leave whenever, as long as it was after 11:30 p.m. They'd been partying practically every night. Why else would it have taken them a month to unpack the few boxes they'd brought along?

Maybe the reasoning for the "party pooper" status Brooke had christened her was caused by Haley's four years of high school. Or even the two serious relationships (and two serious break-ups) she'd had. Hell, it might have even been the expired cheese sandwich that she had gobbled down greedily that morning.All she knew was that she was not in the mood for partying, as she usually wasn't. So when the clock hit 11:30 on the dot, Haley set her water down and rose from her seat in the corner, brushing past the beads along the door frame. Atop the stage, which gave her short 5"4 stance a better view of the people on the dance floor, she searched for Brooke. In time, after seeing multiple brunettes with short, black skirts paired with glittery halter tops, she finally identified her best friend. It wasn't that hard though; the killer dimpled smile, the giggle that seemed to almost always go along with her hair twirl, the long legs and torso. Those features had constantly set Brooke away from the crowd.

She was like that through high school too. Brooke tended to be the "it" girl – everything Haley had despised back in her more conservative years. What bugged her even more was that she was the Student Council President for two straight years and didn't even have any valid ideas to do with the position. If 'DW Not I' had been her best feat, it's hard not to see what she was implying that _all_ Tree Hill High School students did. Yes, there were the occasional parties and more than a few drinkers but that doesn't mean she had to further promote and seemingly encourage those who chose to drink. The message that was being sent out said to Haley, "Go ahead high school students! Drink away all your brain cells because we'll have a driver to bring you wherever you need to go while you puke in the backseat." When the eleventh grade Haley had confronted Brooke about this, angry but nonetheless passionately, she had even provided suggestions and flaws with the system. Brooke was offended that her decisions as the power-head had not suited the book-smart girl and dismissed all her ideas. Haley, the stubborn fighter she had always been, wouldn't back down and neither would the equally motivated Brooke, so they'd end up butting heads with each other. This lead to the mutual hate their relationship took during their teenaged years.

Needless to say, Brooke almost always, almost being an understatement, got her way. She was rich, beautiful, confident, and had all the powerful positions; head cheerleader for the Tree Hill Ravens, Student Council President for Tree Hill High School, and the Drama Club leader for Tree Hill High School's promising dramatics. Notice that those powerful positions had been for Tree Hill? Once they both moved out and coincidentally met up again in University of North Carolina, it was like she had reinvented herself. They gave each other the benefit of the doubt, relying heavily on that factor at the beginning of their relationship, until slowly but every so gradually, they started their now, full-blown friendship.

Brooke was entertaining an ordinary guy that she had just met tonight it seems. She was a little tipsy and overdramatic, using her hands to exaggerate her animated stories. Normally, Haley would worry. Though she loved her to death and trusted her, Brooke could be a handful sometimes, especially if you put her in the same room with alcohol, and lots of it. Tonight, however, she looked and acted fine considering the moment Haley stepped toward her, she turned quickly, as if she had smelt her before she had even taken that step.

They had always had a sacred, even silent, bond.

_**Haley**_

I mouthed to her that I was leaving and she flashed a look of sorrow or regret; one that reminded me about the time I told my mother I wasn't dating Wes anymore… or Charlie. It almost looked sympathetic that I wanted to smack it off of her face - both of their faces. I signalled for her to call me if she needed help or anything and she nodded; the silent connection between us strong. She then turned back to her new friend and continued their conversation as if nothing had just happened.

I love how easily I can be forgotten.

But I guess that's the way I've always been; loud and strong in the classrooms but quiet and shy in the social world, unless asked for my opinion. That's the way my relationship started with my previous two boyfriends, both of them being in charge out in the public, but when we were alone I had taken charge. I try not to overanalyze this about myself though since it's only one of the reasons I thought up of why I seem to always be dumped and not the other way around.

It hadn't been that long ago so it still hurt a bit. I tried to bury it in my mind, distract myself in other ways so it wouldn't matter or have an effect on me but it always did. I found myself thinking hard on all the moments where I messed up in our relationships; what had they really been saying when they said this. I was too much of a literal person I too noticed when I was alone, realizing what I had done to be this way. I feared of this - to be alone…

And I was alone. Even walking the short distance from the club to the apartment was treacherous and agonizing, for I was torturing myself the whole way there. Though I kept on telling myself, slowly convincing my own mind that I was a single woman looking for other things other than a romance right now, I couldn't help but feel sorry. I swear these quiet, lonely walks will end up being the death of me.

When I had finally reached the entrance to the tall building, I was almost reduced to tears. I felt my measly short height shrink in comparison to the towering complex. The cold wind of the night brushing against my face to make it red and blotchy too did its part to leave me trying to fix up myself while I waited for the elevator to reach the lobby. It was a nice lobby, open and spacious with seats gathered around the fountain. The only reason I hated it was because of these huge, clear mirrors on this wall; my own brown eyes judging and haunting me from my reflection.

It was a flashback, looking into my own eyes, seeing how different they'd become. Some adjectives used to describe them at this moment were cold, distant, and everything that gave Wes and Charlie reason to dump me. I couldn't believe that this was what I was succumbed to at the age of 22: already beginning to regret the choices I had made, especially in my relationships.

"It's just that I feel like we've drifted," Charlie had stuttered, his green eyes looking down at the Cookies and Cream ice cream he and I had just bought minutes before. I felt the drip of my own Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough on my finger, making everything sticky. It was definitely less sticky than what was being said though.

We had taken a seat in the booth that he'd brought me to on our first date, across from each other beside the wide and clear windows for everyone to see that I was getting dumped… in a frigging ice cream parlour where there were kids surrounding us.

"And did you just suddenly come to this revelation or did this occur over a period of time?" I had remembered asking him, the first question that popped in my mind.

"Do you want me to be honest or _nice_?" he had sneered the last word out.

"Just answer it." I said, containing the tears that my naïve 19 year old self had induced in response to this situation. I had known Charlie since the tenth grade; he had sat in the back while I was in the front but I had kept my eye on him. When I began getting more social at the end of the eleventh grade, we had started to talk and by homecoming of my senior year, we were going out. He was my first kiss, my first boyfriend, my first love, my first hot make out session, my first everything… other than that, you know. Every moment that we had been once so perfect but now, at the end of the race, I realized how bland he was, bringing me to this damn cheap parlour for practically all our dates. Too cheap to spring for anything else, I figured now.

"Well, we both know the long-distance thing is hard and it doesn't work for every couple, no matter how right they seem at the time. When I moved off to UMA and you stayed here to go to UNC, it was different. You and I both know and felt the differences."

"Hold on, you're saying that this 'thing', otherwise known as our RELATIONSHIP, once felt right but it's been dragging on for the past half a year that we've been apart? And apparently I felt the same negativity you did when you held my hand at Thanksgiving and told me you loved me and, I quote, 'see, this _is_ working out,' like I needed to be reassured."

"Well, look Babykins, it's just that –" He started, reaching his hand to touch mine when I snapped back to reality from the dazzling jade colour of his eyes.

"Oh no," I mumbled, pulling my hand out from under his and grabbed my purse before scooting out from the booth seat. "No, no, no." I said again, fully standing and aware of people turning their heads over to here. "You will not call me _Babykins_ like you didn't just break up with me in an ice cream parlour and try to smooth things over. In fact, unlike the cliché break-ups, we're not even going to be friends, understood?"

"But Hal–"

"Two words Charlie: screw you. And I mean it; get the Jessica girl that you've been telling me about to put up with your cheap dates and lousy kisses from now on. You're an asshole Charlie, nothing more than that."

And with that, I pushed myself past those fleeting looks and ran to my car that was parked outside, glad that I had driven myself. I was pulling out, eyes blurred from the tears that were now freefalling, to take one glance at the clear window where we had been sitting for the past two years. I cried even harder when I saw Charlie sitting there, still licking at his ice cream cone, not even affected.

It was four months before I could even try to move on. Brooke had forced me to get through the phase fast, not letting me sulk by keeping me busy when my school work wasn't. Still, my mind would drift back to our good memories sometimes when reading a book or watching T.V. in the precious minutes I could.

I remember drifting down memory lane one night, ice cream pint in hand; a rerun of Gilmore Girls on when Brooke barges out of her room and gives me a once-over before charging at me like a bull, "What are you doing Haley? We're going out tonight and you really need to get over yourself and get ready!" she shouted before shoving me into the bathroom, throwing clothes to the door while taking the rest of my ice cream.

We arrived at a new club called _Tric_ or something like that, and since it was its official opening that night, the place was jam-packed. I recall getting ricocheted off of bodies, my petite stance thrown across the opposite direction of the bar where Brooke was waiting. That was when someone caught me. That was when the biggest regret of my life so far had waltzed right into my life, catching me.

Wes was his name, his sandy blond hair and gray eyes immediately caught my attention. He let my arms go once I was able to stand and even as I thanked him and walked off, our eyes never faltered. He approached me later that night and we got to talking, kissing, and exchanging numbers before it had gotten any further. He made promises to call, as I did to him.

Finally, after a full week of waiting loyally beside my phone, nothing happened and I decided to take charge. I called him and he picked up on the third ring.

"Hey, it's Haley," I started, wincing if I heard the "Haley who?" I was expecting.

"Oh hey Haley," Wes had said, as if he was waiting for me to call, "I was going to call but you know how the fashion world is."

"Actually, I don't," I responded meekly, his out-of-breath voice beginning to get to me. All I had known about Wes was that he was a photographer, but now pairing the fashion world with photography, I realized it wasn't pictures of harmless butterflies but bigger competition: beautiful girls.

"Well, it is one word: demanding. Listen, I'm actually about to go to a party–" he said, rushing the end as if I was bugging him, which I probably was.

"Oh," I said dejectedly, my expectations of him seeping through.

"– for work. I told you, demanding field this is. But I'll call you when I get back okay? I promise we'll see each other again."

Of course he didn't call back that night, as I'd expected but nonetheless waited. I was used to waiting for people, their lives exceeding the priority of my own. So after I woke up on my couch the morning after the promised call, I decided that no longer would I wait for anyone. I was independent from now on.

That vow worked until he called late that night, apologizing for not calling earlier.

And every week that I found myself out with him, at parties for his work, I also discovered a dependency on everybody else in order to establish my own life. Wes was older, more experienced than me and not as willing to wait until marriage as I was. But he pretended to understand and I fell in love, quickly.

I suppose the urgency that was in his voice for the past few weeks whenever we got physically close was foreshadowing but I shrugged it off and asked him to wait. He agreed, frustrated, and then left my apartment hastily. I was sulking in my apartment until he called me two days later, and the same thing happened. We repeated this cycle until we decided to go to a party on a Friday, for his networking again, and he left me to go mingle with the higher-ups.

The party was starting to wind down after the last of the alcohol was given and I waited on the couch, unsure of where Wes was. I went to the bathroom, stumbling into the darkness before flicking on the switch, realizing it was the bedroom. And there was a tie on the ground… the one that I had gotten for my boyfriend for his birthday. Wes…

I screamed a blood-curling scream. Yes, I was slightly drunk, but I still recognized the throbbing in my heart. I thought I was in love with him, but here he was mumbling the words to the girl he was hovering over. These were the words he had said to me whenever he was trying to coax me into having sex with him. I was glad I waited.

He turned around, eyes half-closed, lipstick smeared and I realized how pathetic he was, how pathetic I was to ever see potential in him. I walked right up to him, slapped him, and grabbed the tie I had given to him using up the salary I had gotten from my part-time job waiting tables at a local diner. I walked away.

It was often times like these, staring right into my own eyes that I let myself go to see who I really was. I was good at lying to the world about the misconception that I was fine, but I couldn't lie to myself, no matter how hard I tried. Whenever I was alone, I tried to revel in the person I had become, trying to bury the past somewhere that wouldn't bring me down with it, as if by convincing myself I was fine, it would finally be true.

But I, of all people, knew that sweeping problems under the rug would never solve anything. I glanced back at my face, taking in the stoic expression, the flat hair, the lifeless eyes.

I leapt into the elevator when I had heard the slight _ping_ noise that it made when it arrived. I was so preoccupied in getting away from my appearance that I hadn't even realized another person trying to get out of the small space and bumped right into them. Into _him_…


	3. The Meeting

**Chapter Two**

_**Haley**_

He stared at me though he was only rudely looking back since I was gawking at him. After a minute of silent staring, awkwardness on his part but amazement on mine, the gentle _ping_ noise spread through our ears, as if an internal alarm setting off.

I got up off my crouching position, walking further into the elevator space. He turned around to catch a look at me again and I felt my heart flutter, wondering what he was going to do. He leaned in slightly closer and I felt my palms clam up at the thought of this man, this miracle kissing me. My eyelids fluttered close while I waited, head slightly tilted up.

"Um… miss? You dropped your purse," his voice said, awakening me from my trance. I got out of my pre-kiss position, heavily embarrassed. When I finally decided to look at him, I noticed that his arm was stretched out, feet planted on the marble instead of the carpeted elevator space. The purse's straps dangled from his hand and I reached out to snatch it from him, the anger from my stupidity channelled toward my purse, as if it had been the one to ruin a perfectly good kiss.

I muttered a thanks and he returned with a nonchalant response, one that made me tingle. We looked at each other, as if looking for something to say before he turned on his heel, walking away. I was stunned, too star-struck to say anything until all the years of my by-the-book behaviour snapped and I found myself reaching to stop the heavy elevator doors from closing.

"WAIT!" I yelled, so loudly that it bounced off the alcove of the lobby. The retreating figure halted and made a slow turn to find me running up to him. By the time I got there, my non-athletic shape had started a soft pant and I found myself catching my breath, not for the same reason. I just couldn't believe it!

He looked at me, confused and expectant for me to say something. "Yeah?" he asked after another awkward glance held at one another.

"Are you the Lucas Scott? The New York Times Best-Selling author?" I finally managed, containing back the other loads of facts I'd collected and learnt about my muse since my initial thought to become an author.

He chuckled and blushed, as if he didn't get these fan-sightings all the time. "Well I'm Lucas Scott, without the _the_ in front of it. And yes, I do write books that sometimes get high reviews." He had tried to sound modest, though it hadn't worked very well.

"You have no idea how big of a fan I am. I'm in love, like absolutely IN LOVE with your work. Though I did find the father-daughter relationship in _Gateway_ to be quite endearing, I wondered a few times whether or not the father was going to cross the line and get carried away. With your work though, you never do know what to expect." I ranted, unable to stop.

"Thanks," he smiled, "I guess. I hadn't wanted it to seem creepy, just wanted to show realism." Lucas explained, his eyes dancing with his work's recognition.

I only wished that when my book was done and out, it would be half as good as Lucas Scott's series. That was enough for me.

"What's your name?" he asked, suddenly finding me adorable since I had heard of and known of his work.

I answered meekly, confidence from a few minutes ago bubbling down. "Haley James and I'm a big fan."

"Well Haley James, I hope to see you around," he replied before walking out of the lobby into the night.

I couldn't help feeling a mixture of rejection and happiness exploding inside of me as I returned to the elevators. By now, the one that had changed my life was back in service, already bounding up to the 20th floor. I headed into a nearby one as I heard the slight _ping_ and hit the button.

The elevator ride was a blur; a mixture of emotions bursting into life in the privacy of the small area. By the time the next _ping_came, I awoke from my little oblivion and straightened myself out in yet 

another mirror on the elevator's walls. I stepped out into the hallway where I felt as if I'd walked right out of my heaven into hell.

The nightclub had literally moved to my neighbour's apartment, whose door was wide open, letting out their loud party music. Also seeping out of their apartment were their guests, luckily for the habitants of the 18th floor, those who wanted to make out, smoke, or the seriously drunk were stumbling out into the hallway. The emotional outbreak in the elevator had relinquished all of my positive energy and now I needed to expel the negative. Fortunately for my neighbour, they were my next target.

I marched right into the room, not bothering to knock, demanding to speak to the owner of the apartment. The party guests just grumbled, drunk off their mind despite the fact that it was only midnight. I decided to skip asking for help since it would only result in frustration and a waste of my time. I searched the apartment myself, looking for any clue of my neighbour.

Though the person only lived next door to me (joy!), the layout of their apartment was different than mine. Everything was bigger, cleaner, clear, and pretty much to sum it up: better. The furniture was bright, as if directly from a catalogue and more vibrant, carrying a brisk, fresh scent rather than ours that smelt like old spaghetti and coffee from the stains on the cushions. Everything was so designer and uncomfortable looking however, that the apartment had lost its homey feeling and you had the constant dread of leaving a stain on the clean beige carpet. It took me a while to find something personal – a picture in a silver frame of a young, tall, 19 year old looking man with spiky, dark brown hair with what appeared to be his mother, a significantly shorter, professional-looking blonde that came off with a Stepford vibe. I would have to look for either of the two.

I walked around the main room until I realized that the party host wasn't among the crowds that were grinding or having a beer. I knocked on a door before I opened it, realizing that it was the bathroom. Usually in parties, bathrooms are crowded with people – girls primping, guys checking themselves out, couples making out, or even just friends wanting some privacy from the craziness outside. The bathroom was empty at this party.

I came across another door and opened it to find a washing and drying machine as well as other cleaning supplies. Another piece of equipment that our apartment was lacking…. I continued looking for the younger boy, pretty sure that Stepford wives don't often throw parties like these. I walked back out into the main hallway that separated the kitchen from the living room.

He found me first. There were differences in the photos, that I'm sure of since it's the natural process of growth but I was positive it was him.

"Hey," his drunken slur had greeted toward my back. I whipped my head around to find him there, holding the plastic cup in his left hand, his right extended toward me. I took it and we shook awkwardly before he pulled me into him. Though I was crushed right against him, his rock hard chest underneath my left hand was luckily shielded by a light blue polo that brought out his cobalt blue eyes. He was attractive, I had to admit that.

When he finally let go of me, I pathetically found myself missing his warmth. Then I remembered why I was here. I had to look up just to find his face and felt my height demeaning.

"I'm your new neighbour," I said coldly, unsure if he could even recall this conversation in the morning. I continued on anyway, "and I'd appreciate it if I could get some sleep around here. It's bad enough that the music is on way too loud but the guests are starting to leak into the hallway."

"Leak?" he scoffed, "You're comparing people to some kind of faucet problem?"

He looked at me questionably and for a second, I didn't think he was drunk at all. Until he went on…

"The parties here always go late. It's fun if it's late. The neighbours around here don't complain because they're invited. You though, must be new if you don't know who I am and are coming here to complain about my loud music."

"Who are you then?" I questioned, starting a different approach on this guy. I wondered if flirting would help the situation or make it worse. I also wondered if the flirting strategy had come to my mind because I had wanted to or because it was a plausible solution. I had to shake my head to get the thoughts out of my mind so I could focus.

--

"Nathan," he smirked, flashing his white teeth. I thought I was melting at that point. "And you are?"

I stuttered, scrambling in my mind for an answer to come. It is not possible to meet two guys in a single hour that have a mind-blanking effect on you, yet this is what was happening.

"Haley…" I finally whispered, "Haley James."

"Well Miss Haley James, would you like a drink?" he asked, charmingly leading his way to the kitchen once I weakly nodded my head.

This wasn't the first time I was offered a drink. Normally they would be young men looking to get lucky at clubs or bars, sometimes even at parties. But this time was the first time I had agreed to one.

He grabbed my hand and led the way through the crowd of guys watching the game, each with identical cups. They started to swarm me and him, shouting his name and asking for high fives or props. He smiled as he gave each one a greeting, all while walking past them at the same time. I could tell though, that it wasn't the type of life he wanted. I wondered if I was right.

Once we got past the mob of guys, he let my hand drop and I immediately felt a sting. Were my palms sweaty or was I too slow? My normal mannerisms of focusing on the negative began to kick in and I pondered on what was wrong with me again.

He opened the swinging door to the kitchen and grabbed me a cup. "What do you want?" he asked, offering me the choice between three different types of beer.

Well I had asked for a drink so it would be rude to reject it. Normally not a drinker, I barely knew the difference between the brands so I decided to work my own charm on him.

I walked closer to the cup he was holding out. I was swaggering my hips a little as I clung onto the counter for balance. "What do you think I want?" I responded sweetly, batting my eyelashes a little more. Thank God Brooke had forced me to wear three coats of mascara tonight.

He seemed a little weirded out by my sudden switch in behaviour and turned his gaze from my chest-bearing shirt that was slipping, to the beers. I felt like an idiot.

He took the middle beer, popped the cap open like an old pro and poured it into the cup for me. There were other people near a big keg and I was wondering why he didn't just offer me some beer from out of that tub. I shrugged and took my first sip, not completely unaware of his staring at me.

"So Haley," he began while I was drinking, smirk still in place, "how long have you been living here?"

I continued drinking and nodded my head to the music while I was in fact trying to remember when we had moved in. I finally put the empty cup down on the counter, making a brief _ahh_ noise before answering, "About a month. How about you?"

He chuckled a little and I found myself hoping it wasn't because I had a beer moustache. "Let's see… it's been a year now?"

"Wow, so that makes you twenty…" I trailed off with my hand grabbing the cup again.

"Four. And I'm guessing you're twenty-two?" He responded.

"So you're good at reading people. Hmm, interesting." I said containing my smile to drink the few drops left in the cup.

"Would you like another?" Nathan inquired, while I was unsure of what he was asking. He must have read the confusion on my face because he clarified, "Drink. Another drink."

I smiled, amazed by my stupidity and feeling self-conscious again. I held out my cup instead of saying anything.

I found myself lying on his bed in what seemed like ten minutes later, using my elbow and forearm to support me up. He was sitting beside me and we were both laughing at an anecdote he told of his childhood days while he explained each picture to me. I guess I was a little drunk because after our laughter died down, my finger was tracing the designs on his t-shirt.

"I think that," I said, glancing up to watch him staring at me and my finger, "you're very sexy." I giggled and flipped my hair. Oh no, not the hair flip.

--

He sat up straighter at that, as if he was offended by that. I seemed to sense the awkwardness because I put my palm against his arm and saw him glance toward my hand.

My alcohol-impaired brain was racing now, unsure of what I was doing but definitely guided by the feelings I had for this guy I barely knew. Sure, I knew some random facts that you would only find out by asking like his favourite colour (blue) or his hometown (Tree Hill, North Carolina) but I still didn't even know his last name.

That was when he kissed me. His head leaned down as he twisted his body around to face me, putting his hand down right beside my face. I responded eagerly and felt our tongues touch and slide across each other, entering the unknown territory. My hands slid up his arm to touch his back, the shoulder blades sticking up. I smiled in the middle of our kiss and breathed in his tantalizing smell. One of his hands was caught in my hair, massaging my head as he deepened the kiss. The other hand was on my stomach, starting to rise up my shirt.

My eyelids fluttered open, surprised by the touch and I saw his deep blue eyes staring back. We both stopped at the same time, as if feeling the same things, but I pushed him off of me. I got up from the bed, muttering a sorry before taking off for the door. On the way out, I was getting my keys out from my pockets to realize that there was nothing there. I searched my brain, retracing the steps I took tonight to lead my memories back to the bed that I was just on.

I turned on my heels, heading for the closed door of his room before I crashed into a body. Nathan's body.

He caught my arms, as I was falling backward from the impact of his muscular physique and I felt myself turn into silly putty, moulded by his hands.

By now people were watching, staring even at this new girl but in Nathan's arms, the attention didn't matter. I felt something here that I usually never did; I felt safe. He stabled me on my own two feet but they felt like jelly beneath me. He sensed that and the eyes on us, so he brought me back into his bedroom and settled me on the bed.

I literally fell, wondering if it was the alcohol's toll starting to take effect.

"I'm sorry," I faintly heard before I felt a solid arm beneath my neck and another under my knees placing me underneath the covers. I could smell him and when he was gently pulling his arm out from my neck, I pulled on his arm, keeping it closer.

"Stay with me?" I managed, letting go of his arm and holding onto his pillow that also carried his scent.

In the darkness, I saw him nod. "Just hold on a second okay?" He left the room before I looked at the darkened surroundings and drifted off to half-consciousness.

By the time he came back, I was almost to sleep. The pounding music had stopped I realized and from the sounds of it, the party had ended. He pulled off his shirt and pants by routine, forgetting that I was in his bed. He climbed in right after though, sleeping on his back. I turned around and cuddled against him, the cold suddenly replaced with his body's heat.

I wondered if this was wrong… if this whole night was wrong. He turned off the lamp and I placed my hand on his bare chest when I felt him put his arm around me. I entered the safe zone again, falling back asleep on the side of his chest, raising and falling as his breathing regulated.

I heard my voice whisper out, "Thank you," and I raised my head to give him a kiss on his cheek before I fell into a deep thinking trance.

In the silence, I couldn't help but wonder if I was lying to myself. Or was I for the first time in my life daring? The ad came back on in my mind and I found myself grinning, inspiration filling my head. However, I couldn't figure out the difference between the two actions.

The water was starting to rise.


End file.
